From The Inside
by Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom
Summary: Jill Valentine has suffered unimaginable torments and a thousand gory deaths in the Resident Evil games. But worst of all is when she’s left to her own devices for hours on end. Nobody has any idea how hard it is, being a video game character...


**From The Inside  
**by the Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Resident Evil,or anything Resident Evil-related contained therein. This is just another product of my twisted imagination. Enjoy. :)

Jill Valentine was getting rather fed up. One dainty foot, clad like its fellow in a knee-high brown boot, tapped impatiently on the glass-strewn floor.

Eventually, when she could take it no longer, she walked right up to the edge of her environment and peered out through the wall of glass in front of her. Dimly visible on the other side was a bedroom - someone had made _quite_ a mess in there, she noted primly - and, resting on the bed, just beside the two rather flat-looking pillows, was a pale grey PsOne controller.

Jill sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly with disappointment, and stepped backwards.

"She's gone again," she announced, rolling her eyes. "Typical. She's _always _wandering off. If it's not the phone ringing or her mother wanting her to do something constructive with her time, then she's run out of chocolate or fizzy Ribena, or the cat needs feeding, or she's chasing away younger siblings to shield their impressionable young minds from the kind of horrors that I have to face every time she picks up that controller."

The Nemesis nodded in agreement, lowering its arms and then leaning against the wall of the Clock Tower's music room.

"She could at least have paused the game first," it said mildly. "She'll never get an A ranking if she carries on like that. Last time she walked off, she forgot she'd left the game running upstairs and didn't come back for another four hours. Four hours of having to chase you around the RPD courtyard, just in case she came back suddenly…"

"Actually, pausing the game doesn't pause the in-game clock," Jill corrected. "All the time that elapsed while the game was paused gets added onto her time at the end of the game."

The Nemesis looked surprised, which is no mean feat when you look like the inbred mutant offspring of Frankenstein's monster and an extra from The Mummy Returns, stuffed into an outfit stolen from the set of The Matrix when the wardrobe staff weren't looking and then released into the wilds of Raccoon City.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Didn't you?" said Jill. "I thought everyone knew that."

"Not me. Nobody tells us bioweapons anything. Right, Frank?"

"Right," agreed a passing zombie, lurching through the smashed windows and into the music room.

"Hey, weren't you meant to be lurching through the windows with the other zombies when Carlos was passing through here on his way to the hospital?" said Jill suspiciously.

The zombie looked awkward and rubbed the back of its decaying neck.

"Yeah, well… I kinda had to go to the bathroom."

"For _twenty minutes_?"

"It's the cannibalism diet. Plays havoc with my intestinal tract."

"Uh, Frank? You don't _have _an intestinal tract," pointed out the Nemesis. "Not since your, uh, little accident with the zombie crows."

"See?" said the zombie, completely unfazed by this news. "I told you so. I _knew _I should have stuck to the South Beach diet - Atkins sucks."

"What, the South Beach diet stops you from being undead?" said the Nemesis, suddenly interested.

"A former President of the United States is on the South Beach diet, you know," continued the zombie.

"Which one?"

"The one who's still in office in the wonderful world of Resident Evil 3."

"Oh. Maybe not," said the Nemesis, disappointed.

"You're a Republican, I take it?" said the zombie.

"Yep," said the Nemesis smugly.

"Well… that explains a lot, I guess," said the zombie carefully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Nemesis demanded to know.

"Well… um… Republicans do act kinda pissed-off," said the zombie, now looking rather nervous.

"What do you expect? We're permanently stuck in 1998!" yelled the Nemesis. "That means the assault weapons ban's still in place! I have to make do with tentacles! Tentacles may _look _cool, sure, but they're no use if you've got a chest full of bullets! I want an assault rifle!"

"I have an assault rifle on Easy mode," Jill piped up. "And Carlos and Mikhail have assault rifles too."

"It's different for you, you're _heroes_," sneered the Nemesis. "That means you get all the weapons you want, while I have to make my own rocket launchers out of the stuff I find in the dumpsters! The last one was made out of an old pizza box, for Capcom's sake!"

"… _anyway_, if I'm not needed around here any more, I'm gonna go get some coffee," said the zombie tactfully. "See you round, Nemmy, Jill."

"See you round, Frank," said the Nemesis, now calm again.

"See you," agreed Jill.

The zombie lurched off through the broken-down door of the dining room and was soon out of sight.

"I still wish she'd pressed Pause first," said the Nemesis, to break the silence.

"I don't," said Jill sincerely. "Imagine having to stand in the same position for four hours. Besides, that stuff's worse than Botox. You can't move properly for days after being paused."

"And it doesn't even get rid of wrinkles," said the Nemesis regretfully.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence elapsed.

"Wrinkles?" said Jill, frowning.

"What?"

"You're worried about _wrinkles_? You?"

"Yes. So?"

The expression on the Nemesis' face told Jill that it was best not to pursue the matter. Jill wholeheartedly agreed. It was bad enough being killed by the Nemesis on a twice-daily basis already - next time the Nemesis might not stop at infecting her with the T-Virus, and would use its loathsome tentacles to grab her by the ankles and slam her head repeatedly into the ground instead. There was no need to antagonise her opponent further, she decided. T-Virus was bad, but T-Virus plus fractured skull was even worse.

"Is she back yet?" said the Nemesis, trying to peer through the wall of glass at the bedroom beyond, momentarily forgetting that all mutant zombie creatures had terrible cataracts and couldn't see a thing anyway.

Jill shook her head.

"Nope."

"Oh. You want to play I Spy?" said the Nemesis.

"I would, but there's not much point," said Jill. "You can't see anything. Remember?"

"Oh. Yes, I remember. But - " the Nemesis trailed off.

"But what?" said Jill.

"If I can't see anything, how come I can still chase you? You'd think I'd run into walls and things, wouldn't you?" said the Nemesis.

"Artistic licence," said Jill automatically. "Mutant eyes look cool on monsters. I guess they figured they'd look good on you. They just carefully ignored the fact that you have to be able to see me to chase me."

"Makes sense. Unless maybe I have animal instincts or something."

"Yeah, I suppose that might work too," conceded Jill. "Though I still think it's artistic licence. I don't think the boys at the Art Department really thought this game through. They'd have given everybody mutant eyes if they thought they could get away with it. And just look at my outfit."

"Very nice… uh… I think. What is it?"

"Iridescent blue tube-top, black leather miniskirt and brown boots, and a white sweater tied round my waist which I inexplicably never use, even though it's September and most of the game takes place in the middle of the night, when it's freezing."

"The boots sound sensible."

"It's about the only thing that is," said Jill, rolling her eyes again. "Black leather miniskirt? Who thought _that_ one up? You can't run properly in those things at the best of times. Next to a fluffy pink bunny suit, it's _the _most impractical thing you could wear in a survival situation. And I'm not even going to talk about the tube-top. All I can say is that the boys in the Art Department should get girlfriends. Really."

The Nemesis nodded sympathetically.

"I'll be glad when she finishes this game so I can get some custom outfits," said Jill. "I've heard nasty rumours about a Seventies-style white disco suit, but hopefully they'll still have my STARS uniform from the first game. At least that was comfortable."

"You think I get costume changes at the end of the game?" said the Nemesis wistfully.

"No, I don't think so. But you mutate and stuff. I think that technically counts as "costume changes", doesn't it?" said Jill.

"I suppose so," said the Nemesis reluctantly.

The conversation ground to a halt again, and Jill let out an exasperated sigh.

"Where _is_ she?" she complained. "When's she coming back? Is she even coming back? I don't want to have to stand around for hours waiting for her when there's a nice comfy bed a few rooms away. It's the middle of the night! I'm tired! I've been killed twice today already and I need my beauty sleep!"

The Nemesis took this opportunity to scratch its nose with its tentacle.

"Okay, so the bed's covered with bits of debris, but it could be a lot worse! And I could always sleep on the couch in the living room, that looked pretty comfortable," continued Jill, oblivious to the fact that the Nemesis was now picking its nose with its tentacle and not listening to a word she was saying. "It's better than having to fall asleep on Chris' shoulder in a helicopter like I had to at the end of the Resident Evil remake. He smells funny. Have you ever smelt him?"

There was no response from the Nemesis, who was trying to scratch its rear end with its tentacle. Jill, however, was mid-rant and didn't really notice, so she took the lack of response for a tactful silence.

"Exactly," she said triumphantly. "You know what I think he smells like? Like someone sprinkled aniseed on a wet dog and then shoved it into an old laundry basket. And he smokes too. It's disgusting. To think that I found him attractive once…"

"But I am attractive!"

As if to prove his point, Chris strolled into the room to the strains of "God Bless America", flexing his muscles and beaming at all and sundry. The Nemesis looked baffled by the man's appearance. Jill, however, scowled darkly.

"Get lost, Chris, you scene-stealing hack!" she yelled. "You're not even meant to be in this game!"

"What do you mean? Of course I was meant to be in this game," said Chris, looking hurt. "The scriptwriters just got a bit confused and crossed my parts out by mistake. There's nobody on earth who wouldn't want Chris Redfield in a video game."

"Except in Reality Land, where the population doesn't solely consist of Chris Redfield!" snarled Jill. "Go on, beat it! Take your all-American hero somewhere else! This is _my _game and you're not going to upstage me this time!"

"What do you mean? I never upstaged you," said Chris, looking puzzled. "We both had scenarios in the first game and the remake, didn't we?"

"Yeah, sure we did! In mine everything went as planned and I acted normally! I even threw up on cue like I was supposed to! But no, you had to act all manly and heroic - too buff to barf!" shrieked Jill. "And yeah, of course _you_ saved the day in _your _scenario! You always do! And I got stuck in a cell the whole time, which Wesker was most apologetic about, because he knew that I was more than capable of taking care of myself and wouldn't do something stupid like get kidnapped by the bad guy just because I was a _girl_, so that the hero could come and save me! It really comes to something when even the villain has more consideration for your feelings than the so-called hero! You big jerk!"

"I think he's a nice guy, actually," interrupted the Nemesis.

"Of course you do!" screamed Jill. "Everyone does! Everybody _loves _Chris Redfield, especially Chris Redfield! He even got a bigger paycheck than me! The only reason they didn't put him in this game was because he didn't look good in a tube top!"

"Now that's not fair, Jill," said Chris, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You look very nice in a tube-top. Besides, guys don't wear tube-tops - not guys like me, anyway. That's not very manly."

Bristling with rage, Jill shook his hand off her shoulder and turned round to give him her tried-and-tested Look of Death, which had made even Wesker nervous.

The Look of Death had no effect.

"Do you have something in your eye?" said Chris, blinking.

"AHHHHHH! Just get away from me!" screeched Jill, shoving Chris roughly out of the dining room doorway. "Go and play Macho Man in Code Veronica! Or wait until the remake gets played, in _your_ scenario, of course - maybe if you patronise Rebecca enough this time, she'll strangle you!"

"Rebecca wouldn't do that," said Chris, hanging onto the doorframe. "She likes me! I offered her solace and comfort when she was at a low point during our shared fight for survival!"

"All that "be strong, Rebecca" stuff? Hah!" snapped Jill. "She'd already been through a train full of zombies, a creepy mansion, a scary abandoned church and a secret laboratory while fighting off horrible monsters, getting attacked by a giant centipede and almost falling to her death before she got to the Spencer mansion! She had every right to break down, especially after having to part company with Billy Coen! I wish they'd chosen him as the other main character instead of you, even if he did have a scary Eighties retro mullet hairdo! Hell, I'd even pick Wesker! Anyone but _you_!"

"Now that's not very nice!" said Chris, with a frown.

"No, it's not!" said Jill, pushing harder. "And next time I won't bother rescuing you from the cell in the remake! I only did it last time because the wretched girl who plays this game has morals and didn't think you should be left to die! I disagreed but she was the one pressing the movement buttons! Next time I'm just going to ignore her and head the other way!"

"You really aren't very nice, Jill! I'm starting to think that I did the right thing by dumping you!" said Chris crossly.

"I dumped _you_!"

Jill finally succeeded in pushing Chris out of the door; there was a muffled thud and an "Ow!" from the other side of the doorway.

"And I want my television back!" Jill yelled after him.

"It's my television!" Chris shouted back.

"No it's not!" shrieked Jill. "It's _my _television! Writing "This is my TV, signed Chris Redfield" across the screen in Magic Marker does _not _make it your television! I want it back by the end of next week or you'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

She was about to slam the door when she suddenly remembered that it was in bits in the floor, the Nemesis having smashed through it some time previously. She settled with shouting "And you smell weird too!" after the departing Chris, and standing firmly in front of the doorway.

She soon became aware that the Nemesis was staring at her.

"What?" said Jill uncomfortably. "He's my ex-boyfriend. That makes him a great big jerk who smells weird and won't return my belongings."

"Fair enough," said the Nemesis, shrugging. "Does that technically make him my friend?"

"_What_?"

"Well, I'm your worst nightmare and I'm trying to kill you - so we're enemies, aren't we?"

"Technically, yes."

"And you hate Chris Redfield?"

"Too right!"

"So if you hate him, and you hate me, and "the enemy of my enemy is my friend", then shouldn't Chris be my best friend?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Why not?"

"One - Chris is a member of STARS. You know, your favourite word? You're after me because you're meant to _kill _STARS members. That includes Chris, even though he's meant to be "in Europe" at this point in the Resident Evil world, which is probably Resi-speak for "we couldn't find a part for Chris in the first two sequels so we conveniently got him out of the way". And two - if you ever make friends with Chris Redfield, then I'll come after you with a crowbar."

"You mean "fire hook"."

"No, I do not mean "fire hook". They may call crowbars "fire hooks" in this game, but they're still crowbars, regardless of poor translation from the original Japanese. Now stop it or I really will come after you with a crowbar."

"With a "fire hook", you mean?"

"With - _with one of the things that I'm going to come after you with_!"

"Oh. All right. Chris Redfield is a great big jerk, then."

"I'm starting to like you better already, Nemmy."

"Thank you."

"Oh Jill…!"

Jill turned around. Strolling in through one of the broken windows was Carlos, beaming from ear to ear.

"Oh," she said, relaxing slightly. "Hello, Carlos."

"Why's everybody standin' around?" said Carlos, looking around. "Did she wander off again?"

Jill and the Nemesis both nodded.

"Thought so," said Carlos. "I hate it when she does that, don't you?"

"She only wandered off once during _your _mission," pointed out Jill. "And she ran back two minutes later at full speed. Then again, the number of times she had to put down the controller and get a bucket for all the drool probably made up for it."

"Yeah," said Carlos, sitting down on the floor and tactfully hiding the assault rifle behind him - he'd known for some time about the Nemesis' deep-rooted desire for an assault rifle and after several unpleasant incidents behind the scenes, he had decided that keeping temptation well away from the Nemesis was the best policy.

"I bet you were really glad when she finally got herself a boyfriend, huh?" said Jill.

"All the foxy ladies love my accent," said Carlos, grinning. "It drives them _crazy._"

"I hear Billy Coen actually did a little dance when he found out she wasn't going to stare at him for hours any more," said Jill.

"I don't blame him," said Carlos, grinning. "Sure, she's not too bad-looking, but there's kind of an age gap, you know? I'm twenty-one in 1998 and back then she was only twelve. Plus we're on opposite sides of the screen. It would never have worked out."

"Exactly," said Jill, with a nod.

"Speaking of relationships, I saw Chris leavin' a minute ago," said Carlos. "He looked kinda mad about somethin'. Did you two argue over who got to keep the TV set again?"

"Yes, they did," said the Nemesis instantly, before Jill even had chance to open her mouth. "Whose television set is it really?"

"It's mine," said Jill. "He likes watching the football, but he spends too much on hair gel and having his teeth bleached for that _perfect_ heroic smileto be able to afford his own TV, so he's pretending it's his. I'd let him keep it, but I've already missed two weeks' worth of soap operas and I don't see why I should have to buy a new TV set just because he's too stubborn to admit it's not his."

"It's a guy thing," agreed Carlos. "I don't like missin' my shows either. I like sports, sure, but I like the soaps too. Like "¡ _Ay Dios - La Cucaracha, Es Habla Españ ol!_" That's the best show ever. Of course, it's all in Spanish, so you wouldn't understand - but I think it has subtitles over here. You should watch it sometime."

"I might give it a try sometime," said Jill.

"Yeah. You know, you'd look great on TV, Jill," said Carlos.

"Carlos, I _am _on TV," said Jill patiently. "So are you. So is Nemmy."

"Not in video games, I mean on a TV show," persisted Carlos. "You're real pretty, and you can act real good. You should have your own show."

Jill blushed.

"That's very sweet, Carlos," she said. "But you shouldn't flirt with me any more. Everybody knows that the only person Jill Valentine is allowed to date in the Resident Evil world is Chris Redfield. Go on and check out the Resident Evil section. It's always Chris/Jill or Leon/Claire, or even Steve/Claire or Leon/Ada these days."

"Do I ever get to date anyone?" said Carlos curiously.

"Sometimes you get Rebecca," admitted Jill, "although most of the time that's because the writer hasn't played Resident Evil Zero yet and doesn't know about Billy Coen. There are hardly any romance fics with you and me. People don't think we make a good couple."

"I think we would," said Carlos stubbornly. "We make a great team in this game, and you get lots more screen time than me, so I'm not upstaging you. And we get along pretty well most of the time, except when you slap me. We should get together sometime."

"Well… maybe," said Jill, blushing again. "I'll think about it. Anyway, you should get going, Carlos. She's bound to come back soon."

"Don't count on it," warned the Nemesis. "She could be away for a few more hours. I have no idea what she's doing but whatever it is, it's taking her forever. It's not Sunday night, is it? Or Saturday, even?"

Jill shook her head.

"No, it's Friday."

"Then she's not watching TV," concluded the Nemesis. "She only watches Top Gear and Doctor Who. And nobody takes _this_ long to go to the bathroom. Or eat. Maybe she's in the bath."

"Maybe."

"There's a song that reminds me of you, you know," said Carlos conversationally. "It goes like this - "

"No more flirting, Carlos," ordered Jill. "Come on. You know the rules. Chris gets all the romance with me even though I hate his guts. Whatever _you _say to me only counts as playful banter, because you're meant to be an incurable flirt who later becomes a loyal and trusted friend despite your incidental connection to Umbrella…"

But it was too late - Carlos had already broken into song and had started to dance around the room.

"She's my beauty… she's my beauty on the TV screen," he sang, in what turned out to be a pleasant tenor.

"Carlos!" said Jill, laughing rather nervously. "Carlos, stop it."

A sudden piano solo behind her made Jill and the Nemesis jump; they turned round to find a sheepish-looking Brad sitting at the grand piano.

"Brad, you're meant to be dead, you know," said Jill shortly. "Dead people aren't meant to have musical talent."

"Didn't stop those guys in "Thriller Night"," said Brad, shrugging and continuing the piano solo.

"Maybe so, but stop it. You're only encouraging him," scolded Jill, although the Nemesis could tell that his co-star's heart wasn't really in it.

"Well, okay, I guess he can sing unaccompanied," said Brad reluctantly, stepping away from the grand piano.

"Yeah, she's my beauty on the TV scree- !"

The last line of the song ended in a cry of alarm as Chris dived through the remains of one of the windows with a kamikaze yell. He landed heavily on the startled Carlos and began beating the unfortunate mercenary to a pulp.

"_I'm_ the one who gets to be the hero and have romantic moments with Jill, buddy!" yelled Chris. "You're from Umbrella, which means I have to heroically defend her, even though she is my ex-girlfriend, so get away from her!"

"Look, amigo, I don't know if you've noticed this, but she doesn't like you any more! Move over and let someone else have a turn to win her affections!"

"Uh… I think this would be a good time to leave," said Brad hastily, and ran for the door. He was almost there when a sudden loud creak broke through the noise and commotion, causing all present to stop dead.

"Was that what I think that was?" said Chris cautiously.

"Floorboards?" said the Nemesis.

Jill pressed her face to the glass wall and peered out.

"She's coming back!" she announced.

Brad yelped and darted away through the door, closely followed by Chris and Carlos, each of them trampling the other two in their attempt to get away. As they disappeared into the next room, Jill and the Nemesis hurriedly took their positions - the Nemesis grabbing Jill by the throat and lifting her up in the air, while Jill struggled slightly but made no real effort to break free.

On the other side of the screen, a dark-haired girl sat down on her bed and picked up her controller.

"I _hate_ emptying the bins," she muttered darkly.

It was amazing, she thought, as she saw the Nemesis infect Jill with the T-Virus for the third time that day and then drop her lifeless body onto the floor, which in turn brought up the depressingly familiar "You Died" screen. All the technology invested in the game, and Jill was utterly helpless unless her every tiny movement was controlled by the player. All she ever did if you put down the controller and let the game run for a while was shift position slightly - she'd make absolutely no attempt to defend herself. Honestly, why didn't the characters ever do anything on their own…?


End file.
